


Wham!

by LittleSammy



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-21
Updated: 2012-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:08:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleSammy/pseuds/LittleSammy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A flashback to the 80s. :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wham!

**Author's Note:**

> This is silly, bordering on cracky, and it only works for me because my Ziva muse suddenly decided to play the big fat tease. Still, I apologize profusely for the silliness and blame the remnants of the Monte Carlo high. ^^

The morning Tony discovered a folder stuffed with boy pop from McGee's very early youth on his IPod soon turned into a very bad one for the Probie.

There were, of course, the nasty puns, delivered with all the subtlety of an axe chopping away in the woods. There was a plethora of bad singing. There was incessant humming during the few moments of real work. And there was no Gibbs around to headslap a certain Senior Field Agent into surrender.

By the time Ziva arrived for work, Tony had resorted to pulling up a Youtube playlist on the plasma, and she stopped to stare openmouthed at two youngish men in white shirts and tight pants, gyrating on a fake stage and jumping into the audience.

"What _is_ that?" she asked, dropping her backpack without bothering to look where it landed.

"That is something that showcases the deep dark lust McEighties harbors for the true Age of Pop," Tony replied, snickering loudly while McGee just rolled his eyes at him. "It is also the thing that made George Michael famous."

"George?" she echoed, staring at the screen and thinking. Then the name clicked and she snapped her fingers. "Oooh! That guy with _'Freedom'_ and all those models, yes? Oh, he is nice."

"He's gay," Tony replied at the tone she'd used when she'd said _'nice'_. An unexpected and sudden frown drew his brows together because just like that, she had made his attention shift from Probie-teasing to competition. And that was not a nice thing to do.

"I like him," she shrugged, ignoring her partner's irritation and McGee's cautiously hidden smirk. "He is... how does Agent Sorensen always put it? Ah, right - he is yummy."

Tony blinked and actually dropped his pen at that point. "But he's _gay_ ," he repeated indignantly as if she had completely missed his point.

"Does not affect his yumminess," she said while sneaking a glance at her vibrating cell phone. "Abby needs us in the lab. And he has nice chest hair."

He grabbed his jacket and followed her to the elevator, and for some reason, her last remark distracted him again in totally different ways, and soon he fell into an almost-strut beside her. 

"I have nice chest hair," he felt the need to inform her, even beaming a bit while he said it.

"But you're not gay," she replied as if that explained everything.

It didn't, obviously, because Tony stopped in mid-step to stare at her. "What kind of logic is that, Ziva?"

Ziva shrugged again, shifting her stance while she waited for the elevator doors to open. "Not logic, just a fact. You're not gay."

"But what if I am?" he asked, almost defiantly now and still frowning at her while he followed her into the cabin.

And Ziva, leaning back against the cabin wall, just laughed. "Tony. You are one of the few truly heterosexual men on this planet."

"Oh yeah?" he said and leaned back just enough to shift their usual proximity to something more professional. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, staring down at her with a stern expression. 

"How can you be so sure? I could have built up an intricate cover over the years." She snorted, and for some reason that reaction did nothing to make him let go of the subject. "Maybe I'm just using my supposedly active love life involving the female population to hide the fact that deep down inside I hunger for Gibbs' rock-hard abs."

She watched him silently, the corners of her mouth twitching and barely twisting upwards to indicate that yeah, maybe she was just smiling politely at him, alright, but maybe she had also just decided that planning his doom and destruction sounded like a neat thing to do first thing in the morning.

He felt queasy, like he did every time she directed that particular expression at him. And when she leaned forward, pushing her hand past him and hitting the emergency break button, he knew he hadn't been that far off the mark with the doom and the destruction and all that jazz.

He watched her carefully as she leaned back against the cabin wall, her chin coming up in a lovely almost-pout while she met his gaze. Then she cocked her head at him, and he saw a strange resolve hardening her eyes while she popped the first button on her blouse with a quick flick of her wrist.

Some part of him felt his pulse speed up slightly, because damn, he'd always wanted to know just how she would look at him when she did that one day. The biggest part of him, though, was still stuck in stubborn mood, so he held her gaze easily and with just one eyebrow going up, as if he wanted to say, _'That's all you think you need to offer?'_

Okay, so yes, he did like to try and stare down her blouse or at her gorgeous ass whenever he had the chance. But that didn't mean he'd have to give her the satisfaction of letting her know that right now. And he was certainly not inclined to let her win this highly sophisticated version of Chicken. There was pride involved here, after all, if not exactly gay one.

The second button was already unexpected, and it served to make a nerve in his eyelid twitch. But he saw the smug expression that crossed her face, and so he clenched his jaw and met her eyes determinedly, not looking at what her hands did. He had to concentrate now.

The third button was accompanied by hands pulling fabric aside and fingers sliding down and spreading her blouse just enough to give him a once-in-a-lifetime view. He saw it out of the corner of his eyes, just enough of it to know what she was doing there, and he swallowed hard when she let her head fall back the tiniest bit while her fingertips moved lower and slid over her own skin... and, oh, screw it, he'd be the Chicken for the rest of the month if it meant he got to see Ziva strip for him, and he couldn't be seriously expected to miss one second of it, right?

His gaze dropped to her chest then, taking in the spectacular view with awed appreciation showing clearly in his eyes, and after a heartbeat she gave him that low, sexy laugh she usually reserved for the men she wanted to see more of.

And then she buttoned up again, and yeah, fuck, he had to admit that he had just been well and truly played.

Taking a deep breath, he flopped bonelessly beside her against the rear cabin wall and started counting very slowly to forty-two.

"There _are_ days when I hate you, you know," he informed her with a scolding frown, interrupting his calming exercise because he just had to tell her.

She laughed again, giving him the soft, throaty chuckle that always sent goose bumps down his spine because it made him think of long, lazy Sundays and her mouth on his skin.

"In my experience, that makes for the best sex," she said and started humming 'Wild Boys' under her breath.

He kept breathing slowly and extended his silent counting to five hundred and twelve.


End file.
